


Making Home

by nancypants (cah_avengers)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: also awk roommates daniel and miranda? yes please, bc i miss them, ghost!alana, ghost!warren, ghostsssssssss
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-04 17:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13369206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cah_avengers/pseuds/nancypants
Summary: Daniel Jacobi has a lot of burdens to bear. He gets to babysit the artist formerly known as Dr. Miranda Pryce. He has to plan a couple of funerals.And...he may need to get an Ouija Board.





	1. Chapter One

Everything is just as they left it. The three lockers have been untouched since they left for the Hephaestus all that time ago. Those left at Goddard had just enough time to destroy the Black Archives before the FBI had shown up with warrants. But they hadn't destroyed everything; plenty of Goddard's dealings were perfectly legal and beneficial to the world. It's not like they would have burned the place down when so much good had come out of it. But Daniel  _is_ surprised to find everything in the aerospace wing looking exactly the same as the day they'd launched, except for the distinct lack of other people.

He opens his locker first, stuffs his things into a duffelbag. He doesn't know what Alana and Warren's combinations were, so he lifts the mallet he'd grabbed in the workshop, and breaks the locks off.

He opens Warren's locker first; there isn't much inside. A change of clothes, his wallet, and his keys. He leaves the clothes, throws the wallet in the bag, and shoves the keys into his jacket pocket. FBI agents brought him here as a favor, and he'd rather leave alone in Warren's car than endure another awkward car ride with the feds.

Alana hadn’t bothered to fold her clothes like Warren had. Daniel pulls out the wadded-up shirt and overalls and almost tosses them aside to get to what's underneath. But she wore these overalls all of the time. There's nothing particularly special about them, but he puts them in the bag. The bottom of the locker is littered with pens and loose change among which sits her wallet and keys. He doesn't look at them too long. Just grabs them and throws them into the bag and turns to leave.

An agent checks his duffelbag for contraband and evidence before letting him leave the building. Warren's car is covered in water spots and dust from disuse. Inside still smells of the almost completely faded air freshener that's hanging from the rear-view mirror. It doesn't smell like Warren, thankfully. He had bought it not long before the trip, and they'd been gone long enough that it had lost all traces of him. The interior is immaculate. The leather creaks as he settles into the driver's seat.

Daniel takes a deep breath and starts the car. The registration hasn't been renewed for the year, but he can't find it in him to care. What are they gonna do, ticket a dead man? 

He finally pulls off of the lot and tears off down the long straight road back toward civilization. 

Miranda Pryce is still sitting there at the corner table of the Starbucks he left her at before meeting up with the agents that escorted him to Goddard. She sits up straighter when she sees him through the window, smiles and lifts her hand.

It's still weird.

He goes inside, orders something ridiculously sweet and loaded up with extra shots of espresso, and finally walks up to Pryce. "Hey. You good?"

"Yes," she says, standing and throwing her cup away. "You weren't long. Only got through a few more chapters."

"Yeah...cool. Well, let's go. I got us a car."

"Where are we going? Motel?"

"Nah." He grabs his drink when his name is called. Pryce follows him outside. "Got shit to take care of for...my friends. We'll stay the night at Warren's apartment so I can get his affairs in order tomorrow."

"Oh, I see. By affairs you mean—"

"Cancel his accounts. Talk with the landlord. Organize a funeral."

He's not ready to do the same for Alana yet. So he'll have to start here.

Warren's apartment, like Goddard, looks the same. The same pristine kitchen, a bookmarked novel on the coffee table, coats hung up in the entryway. Daniel has spent so much time here that walking through the door the familiar smell of books and furniture polish and  _Warren_ immediately overwhelms him with memories and emotions. 

Warren liked to cook for them. He always said it was because if he didn't, they'd only ever eat takeout and microwavable meals. He was right, of course, but his desire for their company was obvious.

Daniel and Alana had fallen asleep on that couch many times, patched up minor wounds in that bathroom, burnt toast in that kitchen.

Now everything was covered with a layer of dust.

"Daniel?"

He blinks and glances over at Pryce. "What? Sorry, uh, you take the bedroom. I'd rather sleep out here."

He's slept in that bed, for several different reasons. And that's why he'd rather not do it again under these circumstances.

She smiles and nods, finally takes off the sunglasses he has her wear in public to conceal her unsettling eyes.

He still doesn't like seeing those eyes. Still doesn't like when she accidentally brushes against him. She's Miranda Pryce, even if she's not really  _Miranda Pryce_  any more. She's kind, respectful, observant. When she's not talking she sometimes still reminds Daniel of that quiet, stoic monster who had no problem lobotomizing him. Lobotomizing Minkowski...destroying Klein completely.

But it's only fair he's the one to end up with her. Eiffel, Minkowski, Lovelace...they never signed on for the bad shit Goddard sanctioned. They never willingly snuffed out lives in the name of progress. So he'll bear this burden. It's what he deserves. And really, it's not so bad. It's awkward, but not entirely unpleasant to have her around.

Daniel carries their groceries to the fridge, shoves them inside without bothering to take them out of the bags. There's a pack of beer inside; he's not going to say no to that.

Warren liked craft beers so Daniel doesn't recognize the brand. But he doesn't care. He's two bottles in by the time Pryce comes out of the bedroom dressed in her pajamas, her hair pulled up in a loose bun. So different from the suits and immaculate tight ponytails of Dr. Pryce.

"You all right, Daniel?" She asks, pouring herself a glass of water.

He just hums in response, takes the rest of the beers out to the living room so he can drink from the comfort of the couch and hopefully avoid more questions about his well-being. He turns on the tv but all he can get are the public access channels. Must have already cancelled his cable subscription before the mission.

Pryce moves into view and sinks down onto the arm chair. "If you need any help, I would be more than willing to lend a hand."

He raises a brow, looks her over skeptically. Logically, there's no reason to doubt her. There are no angles for her to work.

"Only if you're comfortable with it. Just a suggestion," she smiles.

Daniel doesn't answer for a minute. For a moment he was tempted to refuse her offer, but if he's honest, he'll be more than happy to push some of the work onto someone else once the time comes. So instead, he asks, "Why have you stopped asking me about yourself?"

She folds her legs on the cushion, taps her fingers on the glass. "Well, it didn’t take long to figure out you all hated who I was. During the return flight Hera told me...enough. Enough to know that you all would've rather seen me dead. Like Marcus Cutter. I don't want to waste any time thinking about who Miranda Pryce was because I know I wouldn't like her."

"Fine...then aren't you curious about me? You probably knew everything about me. What made me tick, my weaknesses, my skills. Now I'm just...the guy who was on the spaceship with you and is now your reluctant babysitter."

Pryce watches him, watches as he lifts his beer to his lips for something to do in the silence. "You...hate who I was. And you hate who you were too."

That gives him pause. He hadn't realized he'd been so obvious around her. 

"So. what does it matter? We're different people than we were. And that's perfectly fine by me."

He laughs and lies back on the couch. "You really pay attention, hm?"

"Yes. I do." She stands up. "Daniel, you don't have to look after me. I'm not actually a child. You could hand me over to the authorities and let them sort things out."

"They'd probably just drop you in a mental hospital. Not a great life."

"Is there a reason I deserve anything besides that?"

"Well...no. And neither do I. So we might as well just...be stuck with each other. Try to cobble together something resembling normal."

That answer seems to amuse her. "If you say so. Goodnight, Daniel."

"Night."

And then he's alone. Warren's grandfather clock ticks that steady, familiar, soothing rhythm. He drifts into half sleep, the booze in him making his thoughts fuzzy, his stomach warm. There are occasional sirens, the sound of airplanes. They're enough to keep him on the edge of consciousness long enough to notice when the clock stops ticking.

He furrows his brow, listens for the sound. Maybe it's in his dream. Maybe his thoughts have blurred reality only slightly, so it feels real, but just a fraction off balance.

It's like swimming through fog to bring his mind back to consciousness. But when he does, when he opens his eyes and sits up, the clock is still silent. His head spins for a moment, and when it stops, he stands up, pads over to the clock in the dark room.

What are the chances it would work for so long and wait to stop until someone finally returned to the place?

The pendulum is still, the hands of the clock frozen. He kicks the wooden frame gently, and just like that, it starts back up again.

He huffs, satisfied, and turns back toward the couch.

He falls back against the clock, it smacks the wall, rattling the pendulum and other parts inside when he sees a figure. A sound like a squeak leaves his throat as he reaches back to grab the clock and steady himself and avoid falling.

There, standing before the couch...is Warren. Except it's not. If Daniel were wearing his glasses he'd mistake it for a smudge on the lens. A warren shaped smudge, pale and translucent.

Daniel's heart is racing. The figure is just watching him, silent, intense.

This must be a dream. A bad dream fueled by alcohol and sadness and regret. He digs his nails into his palm, hard, tests his reality. It hurts. It feels real.

The figure takes a step toward him and Daniel flinches. It stops. Looks regretful.

Finally, Daniel musters the courage to speak. "Warren?"

It doesn't move, doesn't respond, but its expression shifts in recognition and relief.

"Is that...are you...what the fuck is this?" His voice shakes almost like a laugh. If he's not careful he'll become hysterical.

It—Warren,  _maybe_ —hesitantly takes another step toward Daniel. Daniel raises his chin, tries to calm his breathing. He's not scared. He doesn't believe in ghosts. It's a dream and all he has to do is endure it.

But it comes closer, and God, it looks just like him. The set of his eyes, the curve of his mouth, and the cut of his jaw. He's dressed the same as the last time Daniel ever saw him. In his Goddard jumpsuit, unzipped and folded down, the sleeves tied about his waist. The long sleeves of his undershirt pushed up to his elbows. But he has two hands. His hands; not Pryce's gifted cybernetic hand.

"Say something," Daniel commands, and Warren's brow furrows. "Please. I'm...I'm about to freak out over here."

Warren reaches out and Daniel doesn't flinch, doesn't lean away. But he feels nothing. He looks down, sees Warren's hand on his arm...where he should be feeling it. 

"This isn't real," he whispers, sidesteps and backs away. Warren follows. "Stop, you fucking asshole. Say something."

Warren stops and then he smiles. Like this is funny.

"Fuck you. This is not happening."

Warren watches as Daniel circumvents the coffee table and collapses back onto the couch.

"I'm going to sleep. Goodbye, nightmare. That's enough of your fucking hipster beer for me." He turns to face the back of the couch and curls up, pulling the blanket over his head for good measure.


	2. Chapter Two

When Daniel wakes up, it takes him a moment to remember the dream. He sits up, sees Pryce in the kitchen looking through the fridge. He groans and rubs his eyes.

"Why did you put the cereal in the fridge?" She asks, closing it and glancing back at him. It's rhetorical, though. By now she's used to his lazy shortcuts. "You want some?"

"Please." He yawns and gets up. He eyes the clock on his way to the bathroom. It's working fine, the pendulum swinging in perfect time.

Daniel's day is spent drowning in paperwork. Conveniently enough, Warren left his assets to him and/or Alana in his will. Now all Daniel has to do is transfer the car's title over, get it registered, arrange for a service to come and clear out the apartment, and arrange a move-out inspection with the landlord once everything else is wrapped up. 

He lets Pryce handle the beginnings of the funeral arrangements. It’s going to be a joint affair, for both Warren and Alana. 

Daniel would ideally like to hold them separately, if only because Alana deserves more. But it’s pointless when there will only be a handful of people in attendance. That’s  _if_ the remaining Hephaestus crew even wants to attend. It could very well end up being a pathetic, lonely affair with only Daniel and Pryce to bear witness.

There are no bodies to bury anyway; it’ll be symbolic. A couple of names on a white, marble wall. But at least he'll have somewhere to take flowers and feel sorry for himself.

He leaves under the pretense of getting them lunch to get some air and take a break from the forms and stifling quiet broken only by mouse clicking and paper shuffling.

Once the afternoon rolls around, he and Pryce managed to cook a real meal for dinner. They work in tandem, Pryce frying eggs and bacon, and Daniel baking hash browns. They had realized they could both be happy eating breakfast food for every meal. While they cook, Pryce talks about the book she’s reading, and Daniel listened. It’s still a little odd hearing Hera's voice coming from this woman. It makes him miss her.

Hera is currently residing on private servers Minkowski's husband has access to. If he wanted, Daniel could easily communicate with her through his phone. But he’s not sure she’d actually want that. He’ll wait until he has a good enough excuse.

Now, late into the evening, Pryce is sitting in the armchair again, reading her book in the lamplight, sipping from her glass of wine.

Daniel is sitting on the couch, watching the local travel guide channel, pulling nervously on his hair. He keeps glancing at the clock, wondering if it'll happen again. He isn't going to say anything about the incident to her, but Pryce's presence is comforting. She's grounding him to reality, convincing him that it all really had been a dream. And if it had been real, if Warren appeared again...at least she'd be there to witness it with him.

He checks the time every few minutes, tries to guess at what time the clock stopped last night. Wonders if there will be a pattern.

But he hasn’t had anything to drink tonight. Maybe nothing  _will_  happen.

Finally, Pryce rinses her glass in the sink, announces that she's going to bed. "You sure you don't want to take turns with the bed?"

Daniel bites his lip, glances toward the bedroom. "Nah. I'm fine out here. Thanks."

"I wasn't going to say anything, since I know you're going to say you're completely fine, but...are you all right? You've been kind of jumpy for the past couple of hours. Are you waiting for something?" She asks, looking at the clock.

Always so observant.

"I'm completely fine," he deadpans. 

"Mm...thought so. Whatever you say."

Once she's gone, Daniel curls up on the couch like he did before. It's not comfortable to breath with a blanket over his head, but it's better than waiting for something to materialize in the darkness in front of him.

He doesn't even notice how quickly he drifts to sleep.

Daniel wakes up cold and shivering, and he pulls the blanket tighter around himself. It takes some time to remember that he's in Florida, and there's no reason for him to be cold. 

Then he stills, his muscles trembling while he tries to keep from moving, betraying in any way that he's awake. Ghosts were cold, right? At least that's what they were always saying on those ghost hunting shows Daniel and Alana had watched ironically in motel rooms after missions. All he wants is to call her, have her tell him his mind is playing tricks on him because of _course_ ghosts aren't real. She would come over with snacks, put on a badly made horror movie, and just like that he'd be fine.

The clock is ticking, so maybe a window has just been left open, and an unexpected cold breeze is passing over the city.

Daniel takes a deep breath, convinces himself he's fine, and alone, and sits up. "Jesus fucking Christ!" He scrambles back toward the arm rest and presses back against it. 

Warren is sat there, on the opposite end of the couch where Daniel's feet had been, watching him.

"You're...Warren, I  _swear_ , if you don’t say something I'm going to lose my damn mind."

Warren blinks at him. He looks just as frustrated as Daniel feels.

And suddenly Daniel has an idea. "All right, how about yes or no questions only?" He grimaces at the words and Warren smirks. "Of course this is a game to you, you asshole."

Warren rolls his eyes.

Daniel starts to laugh. "Am I crazy? I'm talking to...to a ghost. Maybe. Or I've just gone crazy... Right, sorry, questions only. Am I dreaming?"

Warren shakes his head.

"Are you...a ghost?"

Warren hesitates, shrugs...then settles on a nod.

"And you can't talk?"

No again.

"Great," Daniel sighs and gets up off of the couch, puts distance between him and  _ghost_ Warren. Since he’s there with Daniel sober; may as well have a drink.

He feels Warren's presence and his eyes on him as he grabs a beer and chugs it. He catches his breath as he grabs a second and looks over at Warren.

"You're dead, by the way. Idiot." He is still mad about that. They both should've made it home.

Warren looks like he'd have plenty to say about that if he could speak.

Daniel laughs again and pops the cap off the second bottle. "God...what the fuck. You died in  _space_ , Warren. I had to come home without you. I'm planning your funeral! And now I'm looking at you.... _you_."

Warren raises a brow.

Daniel frowns and sets the beer down. "If ghosts are real...why did it have to be you?"

Warren betrays no emotion.

"Why couldn't it have been Alana, huh? You know, at least  _she_  would've been a smart enough ghost to figure out how to talk to me instead of just...creeping around and scaring the absolute shit out of me two nights in a row." Daniel doesn't want to look at him. He runs a hand through his hair.

Maybe there's a way he  _can_  see Alana. He looks up at Warren but he's gone. 

"Wait, I'm sorry...Warren?" Panic rises up in his chest. He’s not Alana…but he’s still Warren Kepler. Still a man who Daniel had lost and realized he wasn’t ready to lose. And he was there, incomplete, incapable of even saying Daniel’s name, but at least he had been there. “You fucking idiot, Daniel.”

The bedroom door opens and a disheveled looking Pryce flips on the kitchen light. "Who are you talking to?"

Daniel curses under his breath. "Nothing. Go back to bed."

She folds her arms. "Daniel. I heard you. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Thanks."

"Are you having nightmares? You said Warren, and I know that's the name of your—"

"Lady. Learn when to drop something."

She sets her jaw. "Hey."

He brushes past her toward the living room. 

"I said hey!"

Daniel stops and sheepishly turns to look at her.

"I know you've got some bad things happening in your head, but you're not going to treat me like that for being concerned. Are we clear?"

It's completely out of the blue. He kind of expected her to take his passive aggressiveness without complaint. "I...yeah, sorry."

"Good...that's good. Now, you don't have to talk to me. But...if you need anything, I'll always be—…Daniel?” She stares past him, her eyes widening.

“Uh…yeah?” Daniel turns, relief washing over him when he sees Warren there, by the bookshelf. He looks angry at her mere presence. “Hey. Hey…don’t leave again. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Warren ignores him, keeps staring at Pryce. Books begin to vibrate and slide out from their rows. 

“What’s happening? Who is that?” She asks, backing slowly toward the bedroom door.

“That’s…Warren,” he laughs nervously.

“But he’s dead…”

“Yeah. He sure is.”

A couple of books fall to the ground and for a moment Daniel is grateful Warren can't speak because that is definitely his yelling face.

“Hey! Will you calm down? That’s not Pryce.”

Finally Warren looks at him, confused and disgusted.

“I mean, it is Pryce. In a way. But all of her memories are gone, she’s just…she’s a new person. And she’s fine.” Daniel slowly approaches him, hands held up. “Can you talk to me? Try, please?”

Pryce clears her throat. “Daniel…”

“It’s fine, it’s all right…” he laughs a little. “Actually it’s a relief you can see him too. Now I know I’m not crazy.”

Warren’s lips part, his gaze never leaves Daniel as he approaches, and his expression softens. Daniel’s never seen him looking like this. So frustrated and...scared.

He says nothing and Daniel sighs. 

“Are you sure it’s safe? He…he moved those books.”

“He…moved them. That’s right.” Daniel glances at the clock then grabs his keys from the hook by the door.

“Where are you going?” Pryce asks, pointedly ignoring the ghost in the living room and following Daniel.

“Walmart. Wanna come?”

Pryce looks down at her pajamas, then over at Warren. “Yeah. I’m coming.”

Neither of them look back at Warren as they leave. 

It’s quiet in the car, nothing but the sound of the engine. No one bothers to turn on the radio.

“Gonna ask me what I’m doing?” Daniel breaks the silence.

“As long as I don’t have to be alone with a  _ghost_ , I don’t really care what you’re doing.”

Daniel smiles. “Okay, fair enough. When we get inside why don’t you go grab some candles…just cheap ones.”

“Candles?”

“Yeah…that’s what they always use in those movies and ghost hunting shows. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Ghosts are apparently real so  _maybe_  the shows got it right.”

“If you say so…”

“Oh, and grab some Cheetos too? I’ll meet you by the self-checkout.”

Daniel realizes how ridiculous they look as they walk through the automatic doors into the bright fluorescent lit store in their pajamas and sneakers. But then again, Daniel has seen much worse from Walmart shoppers in his day.

They split up; Pryce heading for the home goods section and Daniel for the games. 

“Twenty fucking dollars? God, I could make this for a few bucks,” he grumbles, tucking the ‘board game’ under his arm.

Pryce is there waiting at the checkout by the time Daniel arrives. She’s got a basket full of emergency candles and a family size bag of hot Cheetos.

“Ouija board?”

“Don’t judge me,” he says, pulling the candles from the basket and scanning them. “If he can move books he should have no trouble moving a cheap plastic…whatever it’s called.”

She raises a brow. “Well, it’s sound logic.”

When he goes to scan the board, there’s no beep. It doesn’t show up on the screen. “Oh, come on,” he groans, waving the barcode back and forth in front of the scanner.

“Hi…everything okay here?” A woman approaches in a Walmart employee vest, wearing a smile. She takes a cursory glance over their items, an expression of curiosity settling on her features. 

“Uh…damn thing won’t scan,” Daniel says, dropping the box on the scanner and running a hand through his hair. 

“Oh, no problem.” She steps up and scans her employee badge and begins to key in the product number by hand. “Fun stuff planned?”

“It’s just a birthday g—“

“We’re trying to talk to a ghost,” Pryce replies and Daniel shoots a glare at her. 

“Yeah?” The woman looks at Pryce now, her smile falters.

Shit. She’s not wearing the sunglasses.

But then the smile slowly returns. She looks…intrigued. “You ever used one of these before?”

“No,” Pryce smiles back. “Well, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Okay,” the woman,  _Raquel_ , Daniel sees from her name tag, laughs. “Well, whatever you’re doing tonight, be careful, okay? This is marketed as a game, but…this shit—sorry,  _stuff_ —is real. Here you go, Sir, it’s ready for your payment.”

Daniel huffs a thank you and starts feeding in bills.

“Oh? Do you have experience with the paranormal?” Pryce asks.

“ _Miranda_.” 

They both ignore him. “I…yeah, I do.”

“Wonderful! Maybe you could help us—“ 

Daniel rips his receipt from the machine and gently takes a hold of Pryce’s arm. “Let’s leave the nice lady alone now.”

Pryce frowns at him. Raquel pulls the pen from her pocket and clicks it. She holds out a hand to Daniel and asks, “may I?”

He’s confused for a moment, then hands her the receipt. 

She writes a phone number on a blank spot, and though she hands it back to Daniel, she’s looking at Pryce when she speaks. “If you have questions about the board, or…spirits, in general, give me a call.”

“I will,” Pryce beams at her and Daniel wants to roll his eyes.

“She was so nice. Daniel, we should consider asking her for help,” Pryce says as they get back into Warren’s Land Rover.

“Raquel. Of course her name is Raquel.”

“Hm?”

“It’s just…very close to Rachel. And we’re not calling her.”

“Oh that’s right…Rachel Young, was it? Anyway,  _I_  might call her.”

“For what?” Daniel raises a brow and looks over at her. 

“For help…”

“No. We’re not having a stranger over for a séance with my dead Commander.”

“Then maybe I’d just like to talk to her. Maybe I should be making friends.”

“ _Friends_ , uh huh…I see.”

“Do you have something to say?” She asks, lifting her chin.

“Oh, no, nothing at all. Except that she was very  _friendly_  with you back there.”

“She’s good at her job.”

“A little too good, maybe,” he mutters.

When they return to the apartment, Daniel hesitates. They sit in the car, engine stopped. 

“Daniel?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just give me a sec.”

“You don’t seem to really be processing the situation,” she observes. 

“Actually, I think that’s what I’m doing right now.” He laughs. It’s an abrupt, barking laugh that catches even him off guard. He buries his hands in his hair and leans his forehead onto the steering wheel. “This is fucking crazy. This is so fucked up.”

Pryce places a delicate hand on his shoulder. He has to fight the urge to flinch away from her. “It’s okay. I’m sure seeing your old friend like this…when he’s passed away, is a shock.”

“‘Passed away’…he was killed. He shot Rachel and she fucking threw him out of an airlock for it. He  _died,_ yet he was standing right there in the living room. This is absolute bullshit; why is this happening to me?”

“We don’t have to go inside, you know. We could get a hotel room and come back during the day to finish everything up.”

Daniel thinks about that, considers walking away from the ghost of Colonel Warren Kepler and letting the incident fade to a delusional dream. He might be able to pretend it never happened.

But he can’t walk away, because if Warren can come back to him like this, then so can Alana, and that’s not a chance he can throw away.

“No. Let’s do this damn thing.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be packing for my move but uh...ghosts, u know?

The apartment is empty. 

"He's gone...what do we do?" 

"Let's set this thing up. Maybe he got bored waiting for us." Daniel grabs a knife from the kitchen and gets the box open, and soon he and Pryce are on opposite sides of the coffee table, their legs folded beneath it, the board between them, and lit candles on either side. 

It's actually amusing, Dr. Miranda Pryce helping him contact the dead Warren Kepler with a board game. She looks so serious and invested as she reads over the instructions pamphlet, her mechanical eyes skimming over the lines. 

"Ready?" She asks, setting the paper aside and lightly placing her fingers on the planchette.  

"Suppose so," he replies, copying her. 

"You should be the medium. Obviously. We'll open the board and then you start asking questions. Keep them simple." 

"Yes, Sir." 

She guides the planchette to HELLO, then back to the center of the board. "Go ahead." 

"Okay, uhm...Warren? Are you here?" 

No response. 

"Come on, asshole, talk to us." 

"Daniel, you're not supposed to provoke the spirits." 

"Well, I know this spirit, and provoking him has always been the best way to get a response." 

"I don't think..." 

"Colonel Kepler. Talk to us." He waits, brow raised in challenge. "No? Fine...." Daniel takes a deep breath. "Alana? What about you? Can you hear me?" 

The planchette starts to move. Daniel holds his breath and looks at Pryce to make sure she's not moving it. It slides slowly toward HELLO again. 

Pryce smiles at Daniel, encouraged.  

"All right...you wanna show yourself to us?" Daniel asks. 

A hand materializes on top of the planchette and Daniel follows the curve of its arm. He already recognizes it. Warren is looking down at the board as he settles in, sitting at the table like Daniel and Pryce are. He doesn't look at Daniel, just focuses on the board. And Daniel thinks that perhaps he's not keen on seeing his disappointment that Alana hadn't appeared instead. 

Daniel takes a deep breath. "How did you come here?" 

The planchette moves.  

_I D K_  

Daniel groans. "Wonderful. Just showed up here? Bing bang boom, now I'm haunting you." 

Warren turns to look at him, a scowl on his face. The planchette starts to move and their hands pull back to give Warren full control over the piece, which begins to move too quickly for Daniel to catch the message. 

But Pryce follows along with hardly any effort, her eyes darting back and forth to follow the rapid movements. When the planchette settles, she glances at Warren before looking at Daniel. "He said that it's a little too much to spell out over a damn children's toy so you're just going to have to be happy with a little mystery." 

Daniel frowns. "Were those his exact words?" 

"Basically." 

He reluctantly looks at Warren, at his stern expression. "I need to know. Maybe I can find a way to speak to Alana if I know how you made this happen." 

As the planchette begins to move again, Pryce speaks along. "Am I not good enough, Jacobi?" 

Daniel rolls his eyes. "Look, you're already here. She's not. If you think I'm not going to do everything I can to—" 

"No, I know you will. But can you take five god damn minutes to—" 

"talk to me?" Warren's voice bleeds in and overtakes Pryce's, and Daniel can only stare at him. 

"Hey..." Daniel says softly, when the shock has worn off. 

Warren realizes what's just happened and pulls his hand back from the board. He laughs a little. "Christ, that feels so much better. 

Pryce grins. "Nice to officially meet you, Warren." 

"Yeah...wanna tell me what this is all about again? Dr. Pryce, why are you in my apartment?" His gaze turns on her. 

"Hera wiped my memories before the return trip to Earth. Daniel volunteered to look after me once we arrived," she says matter-of-factly. 

"Why? Why the hell should the responsibility be on you?" Warren asks, looking to Daniel. 

"Hey, I don't have to answer to you any more, all right? Now can we focus on the more pressing issues, here?" 

"Fine. You can ask your questions, but before you do, I want you to know that I was on your side, Daniel," He looks earnest and it's almost kind of cute. 

Daniel rolls his eyes and leans back against the couch. "Yuh-huh. I know. Wasn't too hard to figure out." 

"You...know." 

"Oh! I'm sorry, this is where I'm supposed to tell you how brave and selfless you were, right? Well, thank you. You have my  _undying gratitude_ for doing one single decent thing in your god damn life." 

Warren raises a brow, reveals his teeth in a smile. "You're welcome, Daniel." 

Daniel narrows his eyes. "Hey, Miranda. Let's call your new girlfriend and see if she knows how to make ghosts shut up once they've stopped talking." 

"Oh, would you stop?" Warren scoffs. "Fine. So my sacrifice is underappreciated. I can live with that. Heh. Live." 

Daniel wishes he could punch him for that one.  

"Now...I'm here. And it took me a long time to  _find_ my way here. In fact, I was...alone. Until you...actually, does Pryce have to be here for this?" 

"Uh, yeah," Daniel replies. "She's cool. She got the cheetos and the candles so, she's part of this now." 

"I don't mind giving you privacy," she says. 

Before Daniel can argue, Warren puts on his most charming smile. "Would you? Thanks, doll." 

"Hey. She's _my_ cyborg, okay? Don't be a dick to her." 

"She's still Miranda Pryce, Daniel," he says, lowering his voice as she leaves the room. "Anyway. I doubt you want her here when I explain how I found you." 

"Fine. Talk." 

"I...was out there. In space. The only thing to keep me company was the star and what wreckage was left of the Sol and the Hephaestus. You were all long gone by the time I even became aware of myself. Before that was just...I don't know. I can't remember. I remember dying, Daniel, but after that...it's just a dark blur." 

"And...no other ghosts? I mean, there were plenty of bodies..." 

"No. Nobody else. Not Klein. Not Maxwell. I was alone." 

Daniel takes a deep breath. "All right. And then?" 

"And then...I faded. This was months and months of being stuck out there. And wandering around in a demolished ship overlooking the star seemed better than just...existing in space, hoping I was going in the right direction toward Earth. My awareness slowly just...slipped away. Like someone was dimming the universe, blurring its edges. And I didn't care." 

"Then?" 

Warren sighs. "Then yesterday happened. Whatever you did, I could  _feel_ you. I was on your mind, and I could feel it. And then you were here, among everything I left behind, and it was like someone was waking me up from a deep sleep. It was like something was pulling me here, and I could’ve resisted, but I didn’t. I opened my eyes and I was here. And you were lying right there on my couch." 

Daniel isn't sure what to say. He just watches Warren for some slip, some reveal of emotion. 

"So," Warren smirks. "I'm here because you just couldn’t stop thinking about me." 

Daniel closes his eyes. "Shut up." 

"No chance. Before a few minutes ago, I hadn't said a single word in nearly six months." 

"So now you’re stuck like this," Daniel says, trying to change the subject. 

"Yeah, guess I am." 

"Then what happens now? Do I have to help you pass on to the next life or something?" Daniel asks, but his stomach knots at the thought of it. 

But Warren laughs. "No. Whatever is waiting for me beyond this isn't going to be nice. I think I'm fine to stay put." 

"Stay put...here?" 

"With you. Wherever you go." 

Daniel takes a deep breath. "I see." 

"Is that...a problem?" Warren cocks his head, and suddenly he's closer, pressing through the table. 

"No, I just...I'm not sure how you think that's going to work." 

"We'll figure it out," he says simply. 

Daniel manages not to look away even with their closer proximity. He lifts his hand, it passes through Warren's face. "Did you...feel that at all?" 

Warren shakes his head. 

"So we're just going to talk to each other. Forever. Until you get bored and move on or I get tired of your mouth and get a priest to banish you?" 

That makes Warren smile. "I suppose. Unless I come up with an alternative." 

"An alternative like what?" Daniel asks, skeptical. 

"There has to be some way for me to become corporeal. I'll figure it out." 

Daniel doesn't want to think too hard about that. It sounds like nonsense, but the idea of Warren being able to touch him still makes his stomach flutter.  "I'm gonna go check on Miranda then I'm going to bed. It's two AM."  

Warren stands as Daniel does and watches him walk away. 

Pryce is curled up in Warren's large bed, already asleep. It looks so big with only one body in it.

Daniel takes a moment to look around at the room for the first time since they arrived. It's not as difficult as it would've been before Warren's appearance.

Eventually, Daniel returns and blows out the candles before settling onto the couch. "You gonna watch me while I sleep?" 

"Do you want me to go?" 

"I don't know. Not really," Daniel says to the darkness. He can't see Warren from where he is, so he realizes he likes it this way; hearing his voice, not seeing him. He can pretend like things are back to normal. 

"Who else made it?" Warren asks. 

"Minkowski and Lovelace are fine. Hera's fine. And Eiffel...he ended up like Pryce. New Doug." 

"So they don't remember anything? At all?" 

"Absolutely nothing." 

"Damn...are you sure you're fine having Pryce around? What she did to you..." 

"I'm fine. Thank you for your belated concern." 

"I was always concerned," Warren huffs. "We're not rehashing this same argument. Go to sleep." 

They're both quiet for a while, Daniel focusing on keeping his breaths deep and even. 

"Did you miss me?" 

And suddenly, it hits him. Everything he's been pushing off since the Hephaestus crashes down on him. He buries his face in his pillow. He did miss him. He had hated him so much for so long. But once that had faded, he'd been left with two vacancies in his soul. He went from having the most brilliant woman he'd ever met for a best friend and partner in everything, and a commanding officer with whom the lines of professionalism had been blurred too many times, a man he'd kill for without hesitation, to having no one. At times he would find himself turning to make a snarky comment to Alana, or to share a conspiratorial look with Warren, only to feel that sharp pang of loneliness when he remembered they wouldn't be there. He felt out of place among the surviving Hephaestus crew. Like maybe he should've ended up like the rest of the bad guys. They'd asked him to move up North with them, to stay close. But he'd refused out of, what? Guilt? A shitty sense of self-worth? Instead he took Pryce with him, went straight back to the place that reminded him of everything he had lost. 

He doesn't realize he's crying until he feels coldness against his shoulder and guesses that Warren has come closer. Maybe he's trying to touch him, to comfort him. But Daniel doesn't look to see, because that might actually make everything feel worse. 

"Daniel." His voice is close to Daniel's ear. 

"'M fine." 

"Daniel..." Warren sighs. "I'm sorry." 

Daniel sniffs, wipes his face on his sleeve. 

"I'm sorry for leaving you." 

"You're so stupid," Daniel whispers. 

"You're lucky I'm not your commanding officer anymore," he responds, his voice soft and teasing. 

Daniel shivers when the cold spreads, washes down his spine.  

"I'll leave you to sleep. If you need me, just call." 

Daniel nods. 

"Goodnight, Daniel." 

And then he's alone again, left in the quiet of the room with the soft ticking of the clock. 


	4. Chapter Four

Daniel wakes up to the smell of coffee, and looks to see Pryce perched on the armrest, their shared laptop balanced on her knees the way Alana used to do.

There are two mugs on the coffee table and Daniel sits up, sighing as he reaches for his.

"How did it go?" She asks, glancing at him then back at her screen.

"It was...fine. Sorry he kicked you out."

"It's fine. Is he going to be around a lot?"

Daniel rubs his temples. "Yeah. Said he'd be following me."

She raises a brow. "Are you okay with that? I don't know much about him, but the way the others talked about him, he doesn't sound too pleasant."

"He's...not pleasant. But I'm used to it."

Pryce closes the laptop and sets it aside. "Your relationship with him seems complicated. To an uninformed observer, it looks like you strongly dislike him. Are you sure having him around is going to be all right?"

Daniel laughs. "Actually, that's a good point. I don't dislike him, exactly. I mean, he definitely pisses me off. A lot. But he's still...Warren."

"And there's a lot of history between you," she says, and before Daniel can reply, continues, "that I'm sure you aren't going to tell me about. And that's why I'm not asking."

"The bottom line is...I'd much rather have him like this than not at all." 

"Okay...that sounds reasonable to me. So how do we bring Alana back too? Did he give you any useful information?"

 Daniel stretches and yawns. "From what I gathered, all I have to do is go to Alana's place, touch all of her stuff, and think about her a  _whole lot_. Shouldn't be difficult. But I do wonder if ghosts are a strictly night-time thing, or not. Hey, Warren?"

"I'm here," Warren says, suddenly appearing before them, though the bright natural light makes him less defined.

"How does that work?" Pryce asks. "Are you constantly present but you choose when to appear to us?"

“Oh. No. Actually I was down by the beach people-watching. Florida is much more interesting than space.”

Daniel snorts, heading for the kitchen. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. They couldn’t see me, so I suppose I could be here all of the time…invisible. But you’re both boring when you’re asleep, so I went out. You know what’s annoying about it, though? I have to walk. Or, I’ve figured out I can ride in vehicles unless they’re electric…Anyway, it’s bullshit because ghosts fly. I should be able to fly, right? Just gotta figure out how. When you call me though, it’s like before; I can just…be here. All I have to do is want to come back and then here I am.”

“Wow. Riveting,” Daniel deadpans.

“You seem to be taking this whole situation rather well,” Pryce remarks.

“I’m adaptable. At least I’m not in hell, right? Not yet, anyway.”

“We’re finishing up here and going to Alana’s today,” Daniel tells him, shuffling to the kitchen. 

“Yeah? Finished as in, locking it up and handing off the key to the landlord?”

“Well…gotta sell all of this shit first.”

“Excuse me?” Warren scoffs. “You’re not going to keep it?”

“Where would I put it?”

“Buy a house, Daniel. God knows you have the money for it now. And besides, you gonna make poor Miranda share your small, outdated,  _eclectic_  one bedroom apartment with you?”

Daniel narrows his eyes at Warren.

“Uh, Daniel?” Pryce speaks up. “He has a good point.”

“You haven’t even seen my apartment!”

“Well…I have a feeling he’s not wrong.”

Warren laughs. “See? She agrees. So don’t jump the gun; this stuff is  _quality_ , and it’s all yours. You’re welcome.”

“Don’t have a secret love child somewhere you could’ve left everything to?”

“No, Daniel.”

“Fine. I’ll think about it,” Daniel huffs and presses the lever on the toaster down a little too forcefully.

“Turn that down, you’re going to burn your toast.”

“Am  _not_ ; it’s at the perfect setting.”

Warren rolls his eyes. “ _My_ toaster. You gonna listen to me or are you going to be a brat?”

Daniel knows Warren’s probably right. But he’s going to ride this out, take out two pieces of burnt toast, butter them, and look Warren straight in the eyes as he eats them. 

Pryce walks past him and adjusts the dial on the toaster without a word. 

“Hey!”

Warren smirks. “Maybe you’re not so bad, Dr. Pryce.”

“I’m not in the mood to smell burnt toast. And please, just call me Miranda.” She gets herself a coffee refill. “Daniel, shall we finalize the funeral plans before we head out?”

Warren is suddenly stoic, his arms folded. 

“I…we’re not confirming  _that_ until I speak to Alana. I want her to be there.” Daniel avoids eye contact with Warren.

“Am I invited to attend?”

“Don’t be a jackass. Of course you’re invited to your own funeral,” he rolls his eyes and tosses his perfectly golden toast onto a plate.

“Ah, so it’s for both of us.”

“…yeah. Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions. Our last few weeks together weren't exactly...pleasant."

Daniel hesitates. He can see Pryce out of the corner of his eye watching closely while she eats a banana, trying to piece together the puzzle of their relationship. "Look. I...yeah, I kinda hated you there at the end. But you and Alana are the only people that I really gave a damn about, and if you think I wouldn't do this for you, then you really don't know me as well as you like to think you do."

"Fine...all right. Thank you." 

Daniel sighs. "Miranda, I guess we're not finishing  _anything_ today. Apparently, my thrift store furniture isn't up to Colonel Diva's standards, so we'll wait until we decide what to do with all of this."

"Mm. To Alana's then?"

"Your pay was  _generous_ , Daniel; there was no reason for you to buy second-hand IKEA."

Alana's apartment isn't far. Daniel could've visited anytime in the past couple of days, but now he's ready.

With Warren in the backseat of  _his_ car, Daniel makes sure to hit every one of Warren's pet peeves.

"Daniel. The speed limit is 45 so why in God's name are you driving at 25 miles per hour?"

"School zone, Warren."

"It's  _Sunday_."

The apartment is just how Daniel remembers it: a train wreck. It's not  _dirty_ , but Alana's method of organization was something complicated and unique, something only with a mind as complicated and unique as hers could understand. Her books often formed piles in various places around the room, straying from the bookcase that one might assume was designated for holding and organizing books. There is a stack of DVD cases, empty, Daniel assumes, on top of the DVD player. Her furniture is draped in blankets and sweatshirts, a couple of them Daniel's. There are crates of vinyl records, though she had never crossed getting a record player off of her mile-long to-do list. The kitchen is nearly clean since she never used it to cook, but her mug collection has spilled out of the cabinets to form a nice little pyramid of surplus mugs on the counter. She only ever used two or three mugs, but Daniel had never been able to stop her from buying mugs everywhere they went.

Daniel runs his hands over everything, tries to conjure memories of her. Of them together here. They'd spent more nights than he could count here, watching bad movies, talking about Warren, about Goddard. Daniel would come over to keep her company while she fixated on a new project, would fall asleep on the couch and wake up nine hours later to find her still enraptured with her computer screen, dark bags under her eyes, her hair falling out of her ponytail around her face.

Warren sighs and looks around. "Tell me honestly, Daniel. How bad is your place right now compared to this?"

Daniel ignores him.

Pryce clears an area on the coffee table and sets out the Ouija board. "Should we wait a while? Maybe she needs time to find us."

It's a decent suggestion, but Daniel is itching to see her, to tell her he's so sorry for what happened, for letting her get killed. If he can’t talk to her, his nostalgia will quickly turn into something painful, so he can't just wait around and think. "No. We'll try now. If it doesn't work, we'll try again later." He closes the blinds tight, makes sure the curtains are blocking as much light as possible.

"You know, the Ouija board didn't summon me," Warren says, taking a place at the table and settling in like the night before.

"I don't care. This is going to work," Daniel insists. 

Pryce lights the candles and she and Daniel place their fingers on the planchette.

“Alana? Can you hear me?”

They wait. Warren watches Daniel closely.

“Alana Sarah Maxwell…we’re in your apartment. Touching your stuff. Thinking about you,” Daniel holds his breath, stares intently at the planchette. 

“Relax,” Warren murmurs. “You’re going to move the thing yourself if you keep tensing like that.”

Daniel huffs and focuses on relaxing the muscles in his arm, keeping his touch feather light. “Alana, please. I need…to see you. Please...”

“Sometimes it doesn’t work right away. Or even the first few times you try to contact the person who’s moved on,” Pryce says.

“You been researchin?” Warren asks.

“I…might have looked into it,” she admits.

“Warren.” Daniel looks at him. “Are you think about her too? Are you…I don’t know, calling out to her or whatever?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

“If you’re not helping, why are you here?” He snaps.

Warren’s jaw tenses, but he remains calm. “I can leave if you’d like.”

“Hey.” Pryce places her hand on top of Daniel’s. “It’s going to work. Ask one more time, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll try again tonight.”

Daniel wants to lash out, to yank his hand away and tell them both to fuck off so he can focus and make this work. But he doesn’t because he knows he’s being irrational. He takes a deep breath and Pryce returns her hand to its previous position, fingers resting atop the planchette.

“Alana Maxwell…please talk to us. I miss you so fucking much; I  _need_  to see you.”

In the end, it doesn’t work.

Warren wanders around the apartment for a while, but with Daniel silently rifling through Alana’s belongings to keep his mind busy, and Pryce glued to the laptop researching, he leaves. 

It takes a few minutes for Daniel to notice. He finds a vinyl with a familiar band name on it, remembers that Warren had once claimed to have been part of the band for a month. He turns to show Warren, but he’s gone, and a sharp bolt of panic strikes his chest. 

It’s just like on the Urania, the trip back to Earth. He’s gone again. And Daniel knows, logically, that if he calls him, he’ll come right back, wherever he is. But what if he doesn’t? What if he fucked up?

“Warren?” He doesn’t like that upturn in his voice. The way his panic shows through. 

A moment later, Warren is back, looking mildly amused. 

Daniel exhales. “Hey.”

“Hey. You all right?”

“Yeah, fine…just. Don’t disappear like that. Give me some warning next time.”

“Sure thing,” Warren says, and then a smirk slowly settles on his mouth. “Mr. Jacobi…”

“Don’t,” Daniel warns, but his warning is ignored. 

“Daniel, were you…scared? Did you think I was gone for good?”

“Of course I was scared. Happy? What do want? You want me to confess that mourning you was  _hell_  and I’d rather not do it again? Stop. Stop making it a joke because it is  _not_  funny.”

Warren’s expression immediately softens. And there’s that regret again. It’s not something Daniel is going to get used to anytime soon. 

Pryce has stopped typing, watching them over the screen of the laptop. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not leaving you anytime soon, all right? At this point, I think it’ll take the Devil himself to get me to go anywhere.”

Daniel sighs. His chest hurts but his heart feels lighter. He likes it when Warren apologizes. “Great, thanks.” 

“Hey!” Warren settles on the floor next to Daniel, passes his hand over the vinyl in his hands. “Tower of Power. Did I tell you about the time I filled in for their sax player when he got bronchitis?”

 “Nah,” Daniel can't help but smile, “tell me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've played a couple of Tower of Power songs in jazz band, y'all. They're funky as hell. Anyway, thnks for reading ily


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh i've been sitting on this chap for like idek a week??? im not crazy happy with it soooo sorry if it feels rushed or a mess i just rly wanted to get this going again

Fifteen minutes into their midnight attempt at contacting Alana, Daniel is about ready to have a breakdown. He’s tempted to go big overbearing brother on Alana and just yell at her until she shows up to argue back. He’s about to call to her again when Pryce pulls her hands back from the board and folds them in her lap.

“Daniel…this isn’t working.”

His heart sinks and he reluctantly begins to face the possibility that Alana may never come back. He wants to argue with her but he doesn’t have an argument. She's right.

“I think…we need to change our approach,” Pryce says. “Can I…would you mind if I asked Raquel for help?”

Daniel blinks at her. At this point, he’d hire a medium. “Please do.”

Pryce gets up and grabs Daniel’s cell phone off of the couch.

Warren raises a brow. “Pryce’s girlfriend you mentioned last night?”

“If she gets lucky.”

“Hi, I’m so sorry for calling this late…” Pryce disappears to Alana’s room and closes the door.

Daniel sighs and rests his head on the coffee table.

“For the record, I am trying,” Warren tells him. “I thought about her. Tried…I don’t know, projecting my will out into the universe? But I have no idea what I’m doing, or if it’s helping at all.”

“Thank you,” Daniel mumbles, voice muffled.

“I want to see her too,” he admits. “You were right; I made a bad call and she died. She deserved better.”

Daniel laughs and lifts his head.

“What?”

“I think I like ghost Warren better.”

Warren smirks. “I guess I can’t really be offended by that.”

“How does it feel, owning up to your mistakes?”

“I had a lot of time alone to think. Especially about the last thing you said to me. I spent a lot of time wishing I had just given you what you wanted, said I was wrong, and come with you.”

Daniel would love to crawl into Warren’s arms to be held. But he can’t. Alana won’t answer and Warren is here but his change of heart has come too late, and now they’ve missed their chance. He could’ve been here, in the flesh, helping him navigate everything, helping him organize just one funeral. For Alana.

“So I’ve been wondering…who shot Cutter with a harpoon?”

Daniel barks out an unexpected laugh. “That’s uh…that was Minkowski. She certainly has a flair for the dramatic.”

“Damn, Renee. I found Riemann…or what was left of him. How’d you manage that?”

“Well…I was basically one giant bruise for about a month,” Daniel says, looking sheepish.

“Jesus, Daniel, what did you do?”

“What I had to. Riemann was all too happy to kick my ass. Dumbass couldn’t sense a trap when he walked into one.”

“You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

So he does. He explains how their plan worked, what went wrong, and how he fixed it with three unconscious women in tow, and only a memory wiped Doug for help.

“Daniel.”

“Yeah?”

“You detonated explosives in the crawl space directly beneath you?” Warren asks, wearing an expression of mild horror.

“Directly beneath Riemann, technically. I had about uh…five feet of buffer.”

“That’s nothing. How the fuck did you survive that?”

Daniel hesitates, only a moment too long, and realization dawns on Warren’s face.

“You never planned to.”

“I—“

“Daniel Jacobi. Why in God’s name would you—“

“Hey! I survived, didn’t I? That means you don’t get to be mad at me, and you definitely don't get to scold me.”

Warren narrows his eyes at him. “You’re fucking lucky you did, because I’d kick your ghost’s ass so fast; you have no idea.”

“God, shut up,” Daniel laughs.

The door to Alana’s room opens and Pryce returns, smiling. “So, Raquel is coming over.”

“Here? Now?” Daniel asks.

“Yes…is that okay?”

“Fuck…okay. What do we do with Warren?"

“I….might have told her about him,”she says, grimacing.

“Hey, cute Walmart girl, wanna come see my ghost?” Daniel scoffs.

“Actually, she agreed to come over, and then I told her about Warren. So you can rest assured she isn’t using me to get to him,” Pryce rolls her eyes.

“Fair enough.”

"So, uh...do I look okay?" She asks, smoothing down her shirt.

Daniel raises his brows. "Yeah, fine."

"You could be wearing a nicer blouse," Warren comments.

"Shut up, she looks fine. Besides, it's not like Alana has anything better for her to borrow."

"That's true."

When Raquel arrives, Daniel officially introduces himself to her once she finally tears her eyes away from Pryce.

"Look, are you sure you're comfortable doing this? I mean...you don't even know us," Daniel asks.

"Oh, yeah. I got really good vibes from you guys last night—oh, my..." She slowly sets her tote bag on the couch when she finally sees Warren, careful not to move too quickly, as if she might scare him away. "Hello...I've never seen a spirit looking so...solid before."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Warren says, looking smug.

"Wow," Raquel laughs. "And speaking in full sentences. You must have a very strong constitution."

"God, please don't. He'll let it go to his head," Daniel warns.

"I'm Raquel."

"Warren."

"So, you...you know him? And the other spirit you're trying to contact, you know them as well?" Raquel asks, reaching to pull supplies from the bag, eyes never leaving Warren.

"Yeah...he just showed up on his own, but Alana won't even though we’ve tried contacting her ourselves."

"Hm..." She hums and finally looks away when Pryce approaches and offers to help set her things up. "Warren...would you tell me what the circumstances of your death were?" He does, and her eyes widen. "Hold on...on a spacecraft? You're...you two are survivors from the Goddard missions, aren't you?"

"We are, yes...but keep that between us, mm?" Pryce starts setting out candles in a large circle in the middle of the floor.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. All right, so Alana...how did she die?"

Daniel takes a deep breath. "She was shot. Point blank."

Raquel nods solemnly. "Warren...you had time to understand your situation, to anticipate your death. But Alana, was this abrupt? Unexpected."

"Yeah," Daniel replies, voice almost a whisper.

"I see. I think...I think that extra time might have made all of the difference. This is just a theory, of course. You weren't ready to die, but your spirit knew it was coming. There was unrest, and that brought you back into our world. For Alana, there was no time to prepare. Wherever she is, she may not have any awareness at all. What that means is that it'll take a lot more effort to bring her back to consciousness. Basically, we need to summon her. An Ouija board simply won't cut it."

Daniel listens closely, starts to feel his hopes rising. She's convincing. "Just tell us what to do."

"Get whatever you can find that she would have the strongest emotional connection to, and bring them here."

Daniel does as he's told, and Warren follows along, his presence calming. He returns with a laptop, Alana's favorite hoodie, some books, and the only three mugs Alana consistently used.

"Perfect," Raquel beams at him and distributes the items around the outside of the circle. She pulls out a bundle of sage. "Okay, I'm gonna cleanse the area before we start...should make this easier on her, keep her calm."

"Calm? Is there a reason she wouldn't be?" Daniel asks, suddenly concerned.

"Well...I'm sure you can see why this might be jarring. To suddenly come to awareness without a physical form, in a different place and time." She flicks her lighter and lights the end of the bundle, blowing softly against it. It begins to smolder, and she begins waving the smoke around the room, muttering something under her breath.

Right. Of course. He should've guessed that. He's hit with a pang of guilt and for a moment, he considers calling this off, leaving her alone and sparing her the emotional turmoil of facing the reality of her death. But he doesn't because he’s selfish. He's convinced himself that he's going to see her again, and he won't talk himself down from doing everything in his power to make that happen.

"Daniel, it's going to be fine," Warren says. "I promise."

Daniel nods. "Yeah. All right."

"Is everyone ready?" Raquel chokes off the burning and sets the sage aside. "Go ahead and have a seat around the circle and join hands...if you can," she adds, glancing at Warren.

They're sat around the circle Raquel, Pryce, Daniel, then Warren. Raquel says a prayer, prohibits any spirits but Alana and Warren from entering their circle, something Daniel hadn't even considered a possibility before now.

"Go ahead and invoke her. Use her full name, tell her who's calling, and why," she instructs.

"Alana Sarah Maxwell...it's me. It's Daniel...Jacobi. We want to speak to you...we never got to say goodbye." He holds his breath. His hand is cold where Warren's rests as a symbolic gesture, though he can't feel him.

"Alana...if you're willing, come into the circle so we can talk to you," Raquel speaks. "Miranda, why don't you call to her now?"

"Oh, sure...Alana? From what Daniel has told me about you, you sound like you were a brilliant mind. I'd love to get the chance to meet you."

Raquel nods to Warren next.

"I...Maxwell—“

Daniel frowns at him.

"Alana," Warren corrects himself with a sigh, "we miss you. Please talk to us."

The flickering light of the candles suddenly dim and the room feels colder.

Daniel sits up straighter and his heart begins to race when the hair on the back of his neck stands up. That has to be her, right?

"Alana...are you with us?" Raquel asks. "If you can, show yourself."

And there she is.

Daniel swears his heart stops for a moment when he looks up at her, standing there in her Goddard jumpsuit, hair in a messy ponytail, floating freely just as it did in zero gravity.

She looks around, confused, and then her gaze settles on Daniel and she smiles.

"Alana," his whisper is barely audible. He feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. "Fuck, it's really you..."

"Can you speak, Alana?" Pryce asks, earning her another confused look from Alana.

"Shit...this happened with him too. Warren, how did you start talking?" Daniel asks, nearly stumbling over his words in his haste.

"I don't know...you just pissed me off and suddenly I was talking—“

"Hey, Alana...you're dead, babe," Daniel says, holding up a hand when her eyes widen. "I know, I'll explain in a sec. But uh...just want you to know that your mom has already RSVP'd to your funeral."

"Daniel Kenneth Jacobi, what the fuck did you just say?"

He laughs, and tears well up in his eyes. "Oh, my god, Alana...you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice."

"Okay...I mean, I do have a beautiful voice. Can we go back to the 'you're dead' thing?"

"Yeah...you're...dead."

"So Minowksi pulled the trigger? Damn, didn't think she had it in her," she shrugs.

"'Lana, I'm so fucking sorry I let you be in that situation. We were supposed to take care of each other and I—“

Warren cuts him off. "Dr. Maxwell! So glad you could join us." He looks at Daniel, lowers his voice. "There will be plenty of time for that later."

Daniel nods and wipes the tears from his eyes.

"Hello, Colonel...oh, look at you, we're twins! I would love to hear exactly what you did to end up dead.”

Warren opens his mouth to answer, but Daniel claims the honors. "Rachel ejected him out of an airlock."

Alana stares at him for a moment, then doubles over in laughter. "Rachel? Holy shit..." She gasps between laughs, "Oh my God, Warren."

He rolls his eyes. "For the record, I shot her in the stomach. She died too, okay?"

"Well congrats, I’m sure that was very satisfying for you both. Anyway...who are these two?" Alana asks, looking now at Pryce and Raquel.

They both smile in response, awed by the sight of her.

"I'm Miranda Pryce. I...used to work with Marcus Cutter."

Alana raises a brow. "I've never heard of you."

"We'll explain later," says Warren, leading the conversation away from the confusing details.

"And this is Raquel,” Pryce says, touching Raquel’s arm. “She helped us bring you here."

"Thanks. So... looks like we're back on Earth. How long have I been dead?"

“Half a year,” Daniel says, and Alana’s expression immediately changes.

“Oh.” The smile disappears from her face and she looks at Daniel with...pity. “I see…Daniel, I’m—“

“Please don’t apologize.”

She’s doing that thing now where she chews the inside of her cheek. He hates that; she only does it when she’s genuinely upset.

“Hey, uh…Raquel? If we break the circle she won’t disappear, right?” Daniel asks, trying to shift the conversation.

“I hope not. Warren manages to stay present without the ritual, so…now that she's here, I think she’ll be fine.”

“Okay…yeah, that makes sense,” he sighs and slowly stands up.

Warren follows suit and reaches out. His hand lands on Alana’s shoulder and he looks pleasantly surprised.

Daniel feels a sharp pang of jealousy when he realizes that Alana feels the hand on her shoulder.

“Raquel, thank you for your help. Daniel, Alana, why don’t we speak in private for a bit?” His hand finds its way to the back of Alana’s neck in an old, familiar gesture. He leads her toward her bedroom.

“Thank you,” Daniel reiterates. “Seriously, I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

Raquel’s smile makes the room feel suddenly warmer. “Helping is its own reward. I’ll be on my way in just a minute.”

“Don’t feel rushed, I…we’re not kicking you out. Uh, stay? There might be some sort of snacks in the kitchen. You and Miranda can…talk.”

Pryce rolls her eyes.

“Okay,” Raquel laughs then her eyes meet Pryce’s. “I’ll stay for a bit.”

Daniel quickly extracts himself from the awkward moment of his own making and shuts the bedroom door behind himself. Warren and Alana are standing by the bed, his arms folded, hers on her hips. They both turn to look at Daniel as he enters.

“Daniel…”

“Alana, wait. I need to say I’m sorry. It’s my fault you died. I should have backed off; I never should have taken the risk. I was so fucking stupid—“ Daniel stops as Alana reaches for him, her hands passing straight through his shoulders.

“Oh, that’s…that’s not uh…ideal,” she laughs, but it’s a wobbly laugh. She’s fighting back disappointment.

Daniel presses on, tries to ignore the look on her face. “It’s my fault you’re dead.”

“None of us thought Minkowski would do it,” Alana tries to reassure him.

“I was your commanding officer,” Warren says, taking on an authoritative tone, and putting an end to the discussion. “I should have ordered you to stand down, but I didn’t.”

“This is how he is now?” Alana asks, raising a brow. “He admits his fuck-ups?”

“Yeah I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“What’s done is done,” Warren continues, ignoring them. “Now, we can dwell on the past, or we can deal with it and move forward, like we always do.”

“Move forward how?” Daniel huffs. “Let me remind you, we have no cause. We have no missions, no superiors. This is all there is; just Pryce and me.”

“There's always a mission. First off, you need to get a new place. You’re going to throw your back out sleeping on couches every night.”

“Okay, mom,” Daniel sighs.

“And...what do we do?” Alana asks.

“Maybe Daniel will leave the tv on Disney Channel for you so you don't get bored,” Warren suggests, and she punches him in the chest.

Daniel's chest tightens watching their easy, physical interaction.

“Dick.”

He laughs. “We have work to do. I’m not fine with being a passive observer so we need to figure out how to interact with things.”

“Yeah…okay. I can get behind that.”

“Perhaps you can work with Dr. Pryce on researching. I have a feeling you two will work well together. She’s the woman who made Goddard’s AI program what it was. She designed Hera.”

Alana’s eyes widen. “I thought she sounded familiar.”

“Warren. I want to speak to her alone,” Daniel nods toward the door.

He raises a brow, but nevertheless complies, disappearing through the door.

“Anyone else dead?” She asks once they’re alone, trying to keep her tone light.

“Just Cutter and this absolute dickhead named Riemann. Oh, and the entire Hermes crew.”

“The Hermes…wasn’t Klein—?”

“Yup.” Daniel cuts the conversation off before it goes any further.

Alana sighs and folds her arms. “Are you okay?”

“Probably not. But I’m a whole hell of a lot better than I was twenty minutes ago.”

“Listen, I'm not apologizing for getting shot, so don't get pissy with me, but...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. You must have felt..." Her words catch on emotion. "You must have felt so alone."

"I managed."

"I really wish I could hug you right now."

Daniel lets out a hollow laugh. "Yeah, me too."

**Author's Note:**

> I just uh....like ghosts.


End file.
